And It Spread
by TheOnce
Summary: After the events of Knockdown, Beckett is feeling uncharacteristically vulnerable and decides to overindulge at The Old Haunt. When danger ensues, who else but Castle will come to her rescue?
1. In My Heart

Summary: After the events of Knockdown, Beckett is feeling uncharacteristically vulnerable and decides to overindulge at The Old Haunt. When danger ensues, who else but Castle will come to her rescue?

Disclaimer: All characters, settings, etc. associated with Castle are the properties of their respective owners. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Author's Note: So this is my first foray into Castle fanfic, which I just can't get enough of. This will be a two-parter, and the higher rating is for moderate violence and some language. Hope you enjoy and all reviews are appreciated.

* * *

And It Spread

New York is the kind of city that will eat you whole if you let it. Lives disappear down the gutter like so much rain, the only witness a scattered pigeon eavesdropping from the tawdry awnings.

She would know, after all. She's seen it happen a hundred, a thousand times, but it never really gets any easier. You learn to cope, to ignore the crushing sense of empathy caused by every blank face, but that doesn't get rid of the flicker of sadness that goes with each case. Whatever promise that life held is gone, never to return.

And every time Detective Kate Beckett realizes this she sees just a trace of her mother's face, staring blankly up at her from behind their eyes. Searching for justice, wondering why her daughter has yet to find her killer. _Didn't you love me, Kate? Can't you at least find the man who did this and let me rest in peace? Why won't you help me?_

But these ghosts are hers, not her mother's. Her mother would never have watched her despair so much over something she couldn't change, but that doesn't rid her of her torment at coming so close. Again. First Coonan, and now Raglan, taken away from her before she finally got the truth. It was like someone was playing a sick joke on her, far removed from the coy pranks she had come to expect from Castle.

Castle. She smiles softly as she thinks of him.

He'd reassured her they would find the truth with or without Raglan, and though she would never admit it to him, she'd come to rely entirely on his unwavering belief in her. There had been a time after her mother's death when only conviction had fueled her, that and a blind sense of reckoning. But after the shoot-out last night, she'd almost lost faith in her ability to solve the most important case of her life.

But not Castle - he believed in her. More than that, he knew without a doubt that she would solve it, that they would figure it out together. As much of a thorn in her side as he'd once been, Richard Castle was now one of the most important people in her life. She trusted him implicitly, and in her small world that meant more than she could say.

She only hopes she won't let him down. Her fingers brush her lips unwittingly as she thinks of the way he kissed her last night, the way he _looked_ at her. Like a man dying of thirst would look at water, drowning in the thought of it.

She'd never felt anything like that before, not with anyone. She had no idea what it meant, or how to even begin to contemplate what it meant. And then she'd kissed him back, and deep down she knew it had been for more than just the sake of their cover.

She winced, pressing her fingers against her aching temples. She wasn't ready to deal with it, and probably wouldn't be for some time. There was just too much pain swirling around her, clamoring for acknowledgment. Part of her knew she needed to solve her mother's case before she'd ever really be able to move on to…whatever it was that she and Castle were.

Beckett looked up, getting her bearings, and notices for the first time that she's only a block away from The Old Haunt. She'd brought herself to the squad's newest after work hangout, unconsciously seeking the comfort that familiarity brings.

She doesn't want to go home to her empty apartment. Ryan and Esposito both had the day off after the events of last night, and she'd told Castle to go home and be with his daughter hours ago. He'd tried to insist she come home and spend the evening with them, but she'd preferred just the company of her scattered thoughts.

She looks at her watch. 11:38. Still early, especially for a Friday night. The light spilling out from the bar's casement windows is warm and inviting, and though she doesn't consider herself much of a drinker, she thinks perhaps she's earned it tonight.

She pushes open the door, shutting out the chill night air, and spots an empty booth tucked away in the back. There's a twenty-something college student playing quiet music on a mandolin on the small stage. Perfect.

Several hours and several highballs later, and only a few scattered patrons are left in the historical tavern. It's after two and the mandolin player stopped playing over half hour ago, collecting his meager tips as he went. The bartender is counting change in the register, a good cue that it's time to leave.

She stands up shakily, partially from pure exhaustion, but given the heady sense of intoxication she feels it's probably more from the large amount of alcohol she's consumed. She fumbles in her jacket pocket for her phone, thanking the fact she's got a cab on speed dial. Her head is pounding already, and she's not sure if she can manage as many numbers as normal dialing requires.

But her phone is silent. The battery is dead. Shit.

Sighing, she remembers that she's seen an antique looking payphone in the back by the washrooms here before, and makes her way wearily through the empty bar.

The corridor is dimly lit and quiet, the only sound the gentle clink of the coins being counted by the bartender out front. She fumbles for a quarter, trying to remember the ridiculously easy number for the cab company, but instead spills the contents of her pocket all over the floor.

'Shit!' she mutters under her breath, the coins rolling everywhere. Sighing, she stoops to pick them up, searching for the elusive quarter-

_Slam!_ Her body is suddenly bashed against the wall, knocking all the breath out of her. The upward sensation catches her completely off guard, and she feels her head spin sickeningly out of control. A large, rough hand clamps over her mouth. The other presses across her torso to prevent her from moving, crushing her so firmly she can barely breathe.

The man shuffles her wordlessly towards the emergency exit at the end of the corridor, her back never leaving the wall. Kicking the door open with one foot, he pulled her into the alley behind the bar, which she sees immediately is dark and empty.

Fear began to creep up the back of her neck, hot and prickly, but even in her drink-ridden state her years of training force her to remain calm. Her brain begins presenting her with options as he slams her against the brick wall of the alley, pressing his entire body against her to keep her in place.

Her gun is still in its holster, in her jacket, inside on the floor of corridor. If she can free her hands she's fairly confident she can incapacitate him long enough to run back inside for help, but his body is like dead weight against hers, immovable.

He stares into her wide eyes. 'I don't want to hurt you, but if you make one sound, I'll kill you.'

His breath is hot and stinking, but it doesn't smell like alcohol. Somehow that fact fills her with even more fear. His free hand is all over her, ripping away the buttons from her blouse until it's floating open. Cold air hits her bare skin, causing gooseflesh to cover her entire body.

She screams mutely under his hand, feeling herself starting to panic. Her body is operating on instinct and adrenaline alone, and takes advantage of his wandering hand. Her right knee shoots upward with as much force as she can muster, landing squarely on his groin.

She waits for his body to withdraw as he groans loudly, and bolts from behind him as fast as she can. But her reflexes are compromised by the booze and she fumbles, giving him the chance to grab her by the wrist. He spins her towards him.

'Bitch!' he cries, hitting her so hard across the face she sees stars, and suddenly she's sprawled against the pavement, rough asphalt scraping her exposed skin.

'Help! I'm being assaulted! Help!' she screams, but he's looming over her again, hand poised to strike for a second time-

But suddenly someone is there, pulling him off of her with surprising force. A trickle of blood drips in her eyes, clouding her vision. She watches as the stranger picks up a spare beam from the alley floor, wielding it like a bat against her attacker.

'Leave her alone, you bastard.'

Her heart stops. She knows that voice.

'This is none of your business, asshole.'

'Au contraire. People terrorizing innocent women outside of my bar are most definitely my business.'

Her attacker laughs. 'You own this dump? You should really con-'

But Castle doesn't give him the chance to finish. The bat is hurtling against the side of the man's face in less than a second, and he hits the ground with a satisfying thud, out cold.

'Ha!' cried Castle, too pleased with his own daring to restrain himself. The bravado is gone in an instant, however, as he turns his attention towards the woman on the alley floor.

She hears his breath stop the instant he sees her. His face contorts painfully, deadly white, as she watches the awful realization spread over him.

'Beckett?' he whispers roughly. 'Kate?'

For a moment she forgets to keep breathing, as their eyes meet across the dirty alley. But then she's crashing back to reality, her body shuddering violently as she struggles to maintain some kind of composure.

And suddenly he's kneeling next to her on the ground, his hands skirting gently over her arms, her legs, checking for broken bones, checking to make sure she's real and still very much alive. His fingertips brush over the spot where she was hit, causing her to inhale sharply. She can already feel an ugly bruise forming.

His face is just inches away from hers. His eyes, normally so bright, are dull as he wipes the blood from her face with his handkerchief, clouded with hurt. She can sense the anger lurking behind his composed exterior, a protectiveness so fierce it makes him seem almost foreign to her. The same inexplicable fear she felt outside of the warehouse rises in her as he continues to stare at her, a cool sense of surety in his eyes. Afraid, perhaps, of seeing something she'd never quite allowed herself to believe.

'Kate,' he whispers, stroking her hair absently. His voice is so tender that she feels herself begin to come undone, the awful truth of what almost happened tonight refusing to be ignored any longer.

'Castle, I-' she begins, her voice thick with tears, when the door to the bar opened behind them with a bang.

They both started, looking up from the alley floor. It was the bartender.

He looked down on the strange scene hesitantly. 'Is everything all right, Mr. Castle?'

'Call the police, Peter,' he said. 'And make sure they bring an ambulance.'

She squirmed at the mention of the word ambulance. Hospitals were not on her list of favorite places.

'Castle, no, I really don't want-'

But the look he gave her silenced her instantly. 'You're being looked at by a doctor, Beckett.'

He spoke with such resolve that she couldn't even object. She didn't think she'd ever seen him so serious about anything.

The wind rose suddenly, blowing her loose top around her small frame, causing her to shudder with cold. She looked down. Her stomach was a mess of cuts and scratches, her clothing torn beyond repair.

She glanced at Castle, feeling his eyes follow over the cuts and bruises, assessing the damage. He looked back at her after a few seconds and blushed, caught staring where he shouldn't.

She was too exhausted to care about the fact that she was half-naked in front of him, though part of her was silently touched that he was embarrassed for her. All she really wanted was to go home and sink into her bed before she lost control completely.

He seemed to sense her growing discomfort. 'C'mon, let's get you inside out of the cold,' he said, lifting her gently from the ground in both his arms.

'Castle, I can walk,' she argued, but he silenced her with another look from his cool blue eyes.

'Quiet, Detective Beckett,' he said, eyes never leaving hers. 'That's a order. Let someone take care of you for a change.'

Sighing, she gave in, her body relaxing into the security of his strong embrace.

'What about him?' she asked with disgust, gesturing to the man still unconscious on the alley floor.

'Don't worry, he's not going anywhere. I was an all-star hitter in college.'

Castle carried her into the bar, sitting her in a booth while Peter fetched ice from behind the bar. Castle retrieved Beckett's gun from the back corridor, and she felt immediately better having it close at hand again.

A detail of uniforms arrived minutes later with the paramedics, arresting the now-conscious man while the EMT looked over Beckett.

'All of these injuries are mostly superficial,' the young paramedic told her, 'but I'd still like you to come down to Mercy for an MRI to rule out any head trauma.'

'No,' she said, standing shakily from the table. Castle was instantly at her side, an arm around her waist for support.

'Kate, you should go to the hospital.'

'No,' she said again. 'I'm fine, Castle. I'll go down to the precinct on Monday and give my statement. Please, I just want to go home.'

He looked at her, still reluctant to let her walk away without being thoroughly checked over.

'Please, Castle,' she replied wearily, her eyes pleading with him. 'Just take me home.'

His face was a jumbled mix of doubt and compassion. Finally, she saw his resolve crack.

'Ok, Beckett. I'll take you home. You're safe with me.'


	2. In My Home

Disclaimer: All characters, settings, etc. associated with Castle are the properties of their respective owners. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

A/N: First, thank you so much for the wonderful reviews! They were so encouraging I just had to finish this chapter. I tried to inject as much Casketty goodness as possible while still keeping it authentic to Castle and Beckett's slowly developing relationship, so I hope you enjoy. The title for this fic belongs to a great song by The Avett Brothers, 'As It Spread,' which you should check out if you get a chance. Cheers.

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Streams of scalding water flowed over her bruised body, eddying around her feet as the building's ancient plumbing struggled to keep up. She'd always considered hot water to be one of life's simple luxuries. Now, instead of being a release it was simply a distraction, a convenient alternative to the otherwise painful sensations filling her mind and body.

Beckett inhaled deeply, relishing in the heat of the fragrant steam. Her skin was raw and burning, but she didn't care. She was happy to stay here until the water ran dry, only she was sure Castle would suspect she was trying to drown herself if she did.

Castle. Again her thoughts turned to the writer, for what seemed the hundredth time tonight.

She was sure he would be sitting patiently on the floor next to the bathroom door when she finally emerged, right where she'd left him. She'd tried to tell him to go home, to insist, however improbably, that she was fine, but he knew better. And so he waited.

Beckett sighed. As much as she wanted to, she knew she couldn't leave him waiting all night. Eventually she would have to face the pity in his eyes, the way he held his breath around her as if she might crack at any minute.

She hated the thought of it. After her mother was killed everyone had looked at her with such pity, like a bird with a broken wing, even her own father. No one had understood that all she needed was the truth, not their sympathy. No one, until Castle had come along anyway.

Finally, the water starts to run cold. She steps out, wrapping a robe around herself, and wrings the excess water out of her long hair. The steam lingering in the small bathroom quickly vanishes when she pulls open the door, the cold air seeping in instantly.

As she fully expected, Castle is sitting on the floor by the door, flipping through what looks to be her copy of _Flowers for Your Grave. _

'Castle,' she said, stepping past him into the kitchen. Opening the refrigerator, she took out a pitcher of water and poured herself a glass. 'You didn't have to stay. I told you, I'll be fine, really.'

Castle stood up, following her into the small, but well-kept space. 'Yeah, well, I never could resist a thrilling, impeccably well-written mystery,' he joked, pointing to his own book.

'I know what you're trying to do Castle, and I appreciate it, I really do, but I promise you it's really not necessary.'

Castle gestured to himself, a mockingly innocent look on his face. 'Me? I thought you'd know by now, Beckett, I'm just naturally this charming. It's a curse, really.'

In spite of herself, she grinned. She knew full well he was trying to keep things normal for her sake, for which she was secretly grateful. The last thing she wanted was for Castle to be afraid to be himself around her.

'Trust me,' she replied, 'that, I know better than anyone. But it's late. You should really go home and get some sleep. I'm sure your family is worried about you.'

He sat down on the barstool across from her, turning his phone over idly between his fingertips. She could tell he was exhausted, as much from the way he carried his weary body as by the heavy bags under his eyes. She was sure she looked just as bad.

'I called Mother before we left the bar to let her know I'd be late. I told her you weren't feeling well, that I was going to take you home,' he answered.

Beckett could feel herself go red before he'd even stopped talking. She hadn't even considered how uncomfortable it would be to tell people what happened, though she knew it would be impossible to keep from those closest to her.

Castle jumped quickly from his seat, his phone skittering across the countertop. 'I didn't tell her what happened, Beckett, I would never-'

She put up her hand, stopping him mid-sentence. 'Relax, Castle, I didn't mean to get…to make you think….' She stopped, taking a deep breath. 'I know you would never do something like that.'

He let out a breath, visibly relieved. 'I'm glad.'

She smiled at him. 'Really though, I'm just going to go bed. It's been a long night.'

He smiled back at her, but she noticed it didn't really reach his eyes. 'I'll stay then, until you fall asleep at least.'

'Castle-'

'No, really, I don't mind-'

'Castle-'

'I'll let myself out-'

'Castle-'

'Beckett, _please_.'

She stopped. All trace of humor was gone from his voice. Instead his face was pained, his tone urgent.

'I don't want to leave you alone,' he said, turning away from her suddenly. When he looked at her again, she couldn't help but be taken aback. He seemed…reserved. Unsure of himself. It was unnerving. 'What happened tonight, when I saw you like that, it…scared me.'

She could only stare at him, her mouth hanging slightly open. His admission hung thick in the air between them, heavy like a cloak.

'Castle,' she began quietly. 'I _will_ be all right.'

He sighed. 'I know you will. I know you're stronger everyday then most people are at their very best, but what happened tonight- what almost happened-'

He closed the distance between them, placing a hand at her elbow. 'When I think of what could have happened, if I hadn't-'

But she stopped him. 'Then don't. You were there, Castle. You were there when I needed you.'

She covered his hand with her own, and felt him squeeze it in return.

'Always,' he said softly.

She released his hand, feeling the dull ache of exhaustion settling deep in her bones. 'I'm going to sleep now, Castle. There might be something in the fridge if you get hungry,' she said, picking up her gun from the table on her way to her bedroom.

'I don't think I'll get that hungry,' he replied, his trademark grin back on his lips. 'I'll just hang out here until you fall asleep,' he said, gesturing to the couch.

'Ok. Goodnight, Castle.' She hesitated before shutting her bedroom door. 'Castle?'

'Yes?' he said.

'Thank you.'

* * *

Sweat. Heat. The stench of rotting garbage and stale beer. Rough, biting asphalt under her skin, a dark figure looming overhead, reaching to strike, coming closer, again and again-

'No! No!'

Beckett bolted upright in bed, sweat slick on her body, and fumbled blindly in the dark for her gun. Her hand fell over the cold metal as the door to her bedroom was forced open with a bang, outlining the silhouette of a man.

'Stay where you are!' she cried as she pointed the gun upwards, her brain still foggy with the remnants of her nightmare.

'Kate?' she heard a familiar voice call out.

Instantly she relaxed her grip, lowering the weapon. 'Castle?' she asked angrily. 'What are you doing? I could have killed you!'

She climbed out of bed, throwing back the mess of tangled sheets. The cool night air hit her body, still saturated with cold sweat, and she shuddered in her thin pyjamas.

'You were screaming in your sleep,' he answered, stooping to pick up the quilt on top of the pile. Slowly, he took a step closer to her, wrapping the blanket around her shivering frame. 'I thought something was wrong,' he finished quietly.

She accepted the blanket without arguing, glancing around her darkened bedroom. The light outside her window was pale and quivering, the last traces of moonlight lingering just before dawn. The streets were quiet, for now, as if they were the only two people awake in a city of millions.

She drew the quilt closer around her. She couldn't stop shivering. Adrenaline was still coursing through her veins, her breath ragged and shallow. The fear refused to leave her, setting her nerves on fire as easily as the thought of the figure in her dream, hovering over her, ripping her clothes, reaching back his fist-'

'Kate? Kate?'

She started, looking at Castle. He was holding her arms, shaking her gently, a look of concern etched across his face. 'Are you all right?'

She inhaled sharply, but for some reason the oxygen suddenly couldn't get to her lungs fast enough. Her eyes were burning with tears, and she swiped at them angrily. This was silly. She was being silly. There was nothing to be afraid of. Nothing.

'Castle, I'm fine,' she said shakily, a treacherous lump forming in her throat. 'I'm fine, it was just a dream.'

'Beckett-'

But she couldn't look at him. 'It was just a dream, Castle, it's nothing, it's silly-'

'_Kate,_' he whispered harshly, forcing her to look at him. 'It's ok. You don't have to pretend in front of me.'

His words were like a small stone that started an avalanche. Her body trembled violently, her tears finally spilling over, unable to contain the awful, sick fear she'd felt constantly since this terrible night had begun.

Castle pulled her into his arms without hesitating, resting his chin on top of her shaking form as her tears bled through his cotton shirt, stopping when they reached his skin.

Minutes passed as he continued to hold her, neither of them saying anything, neither of them needing to. The solace he provided her, however temporary, was enough to subdue her fears, at least for a little while. She knew in the cold light of day she would feel ashamed to have broken down so completely in front of him, but right now she couldn't bring herself to care. She rarely sought out comfort, even when she needed it. It was enough to know that Castle was willing to stick by her, even at her worst.

Eventually, she loosened herself gently from his embrace, her body still. For a single, fleeting moment she was sure she could feel a pang of regret course through him as she pulled away, but like lightening it was gone. His face was a mask of empathy and respect, his opinion of her written as clear as stone on his refined features.

Her skin still tingled from the remnants of her tears. 'Castle…' she began, entirely unsure of herself. 'I don't really know what to say.'

Grinning, he tucked a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. 'Don't say anything,' he answered quietly. 'You don't have to explain yourself to me. I'm just glad you let me help you.'

She exhaled slowly, allowing herself the privilege of returning his smile. 'That's not something I have an easy time with,' she replied. 'In case you haven't noticed.'

The look of skeptical disbelief on his face was answer enough. And though she was still unsure of what exactly she was doing, she forced herself to continue.

'Castle, you know more about my mother's case than anyone, but there's still something I haven't told you. Well, not about the case, really, but about her death.'

Castle said nothing, sensing her need to continue uninterrupted.

'When my father told me how she died,' Beckett continued, 'I was so hurt, and angry. It didn't make any sense. My mother could never hurt anyone, had never even spoken a bad word against anyone in anger. She didn't deserve to die the way she did.'

She watched his features soften as she spoke of the indescribable pain, his heart breaking for her even as he yearned to take it all away. She'd learned long ago that nothing could do that, not even Richard Castle, but the sight of him standing next to her was enough to send her stomach churning with a strange lightness all the same.

'The day of her funeral, when they…when they lowered her into the ground, that was the first moment I really believed it was true, that it had really happened. I felt so helpless, I wanted to rip the top off the casket and shake her until she woke up, until it wasn't real anymore.'

His eyes never left her as she spoke, a cool, wide ocean taming the rich earth that was her gaze.

'I promised myself, after that day, that I would never feel that helpless again. It's the reason I became a cop, Castle. I couldn't protect her, but I could protect other people from feeling what I did that day. I would protect them.'

She wrapped her arms tight around her body, shutting out the memory of how she had felt earlier. 'Tonight was the first time I've ever felt that helpless again, Castle. That's what frightened me so much. Not what almost happened, not really, but the fact that I couldn't do anything about it.'

She waited for him to respond, the silence stretching between them as the seconds ticked by. Doubt crept up her spine, the same lingering uncertainties she'd always carried. She'd said too much, too soon. Overstepped her bounds. He was her friend, sure, but even friendship had its limits. And she'd just dumped all her problems on him in a heap, expecting…

Expecting what? She didn't know.

She drew back from him, eager suddenly to take it all back and forget she'd said anything, but Castle stopped her. He tightened his hold on her.

'Beckett,' he began, as if trying to find exactly the right words. 'Kate.'

She stared into his eyes, unable to look away.

'I know I've spent most of my life being superficial. Cars. Women. Money. But you- you gamble your life and your sanity everyday for complete strangers, and never ask for anything in return.'

He paused, his eyes burning into hers. 'Whatever you tell me, it could never make me think any less of you. I'm not going anywhere, Beckett.'

She exhaled, letting out of breath she hadn't realized she was holding. Her heart started to beat again of its own accord, the blood flooding to her cheeks in a traitorous blush.

For the second time tonight, she had no idea what to say. But she knew it didn't matter. She knew he would understand.

'Thank you, Castle,' she said, knowing somehow it would be enough. 'For everything.'

'You're welcome, Beckett,' he answered simply, the ghost of a smile on his lips conveying more than words ever could.

Outside the window, the first weak rays of morning light were creeping over the rooftops, calling the silent city out of its slumber. Another day. Another test.

Except now, she knew she didn't have to face it alone. Not if she didn't want to.

She reached over and drew the curtains closed, at least for now. 'I'm going to go back to bed, Castle,' she said. 'You should go home, get some sleep.'

He nodded, the weariness falling over him. 'I think that's probably a good idea,' he agreed.

She followed him to the door of her apartment, the quilt still wrapped around her for warmth. Opening the door, he stepped out, but looked back at her before he left.

'If you need anything…,' he said, leaving the question unfinished.

'I know,' she said quietly. 'You'll be there.'

He smiled wide, the action lighting up his face. Leaning over the threshold of her door, he placed his hand behind her unkempt hair, and kissed her softly on her forehead.

His lips lingered above her skin for only a second before he drew away, and she instantly missed the warmth of his breath. He grinned at her one last time before he shut the door quietly, waving as he went.

Beckett turned off the lights one by one as she made her way back to the bedroom and climbed under the sheets, for once not feeling guilty about the possibility of sleeping in late. Sighing, she closed her eyes. She was sure she wouldn't have any more nightmares tonight.


End file.
